Catalysts
by mistress amethyst une
Summary: Complete. For Angela. He assumes that's part of their attraction to each other. She's not something he can conquer, and he'll be damned if he'll let anyone else try. 1xR ficlet series.
1. Atmospheric Entry

**Disclaimer:** GW = not mine.

**Author's Note:** Response to a challenge issued by Angela. :) A short series which will feature four or five ficlets.

**Catalysts  
by mistress amethyst une**

**Atmospheric Entry**

A meteoroid can be the size of a grain of sand or a huge hunk of rock. Still, no matter how big or small, it instantaneously becomes a meteor once it touches another body's atmosphere. In that atmosphere, it catches fire, becomes enveloped in an abrasive heat that wears it down. At this point, it becomes a streak of light, an object of wonder for any sentient life form that happens to spot it from the body's surface. Even as it serves as a spectacle, it find itself burning into nothingness. Sometimes, the meteor is big and hits the surface with such force that the landscape is forever changed by a crater, a sign that disaster can fall from the heavens. More often than not, the meteor is a mere pebble that disintegrates in the atmosphere, leaving no trace. Then there's the middle ground: meteorites that hardly leave a dent yet survive the fire and falling.

Having participated in Operation Meteor by disguising himself and his Gundam as a shooting star, Heero Yuy is definitely some form of meteorite.

At least, Relena sometimes thinks so.

He survived the war, burned bright during that trial by fire. During those tumultuous times, she often found herself admiring his strength, thoroughly amazed by this young boy who sought to transform the world around him just as she did. On the eve of the final battle, he predicted that he would burn out brightly, helping bring about a new age of peace with his demise.

Things did not go exactly as planned.

Relena considers Heero a meteorite not solely because Operation Meteor evokes such a metaphor. Some say Heero has the disposition of a rock. Relena begs to differ. Rocks are ordinary. Meteorites are special, scarred in a way nothing else can be. They evoke a sense of wonder in everyone, not just the occasional geologist. Still, these space rocks aren't exactly eager to tell you about themselves. One has to see more than just the surface to learn a meteorite's secrets.

Relena does admit that speaking to him is sometimes comparable to speaking to a rock. A rock with ears. Somehow, she feels like he listens though it would be so much easier if it was more apparent. There is so much she still does not know about him. She often wonders why he stays with her, protecting her despite his original threat to kill her. He is a meteor in that sense as well, shocking her with his callousness, coming into her life and changing it forever. Definitely not a pebble. If he leaves, she knows for sure that there will always be a certain emptiness to her, a figurative emotional crater.

She supposes he stays because he's drawn to her. It's not conceit on her part to admit this. Even if she doesn't understand why, it's an undeniable fact that he keeps coming to her, still burning as brightly as he did in battle. The war is over but his eyes still bear that same passionate glow. What is it that still keeps him aflame like this? Why does he still seem to be fighting?

She should have known the answer when their lips first met, closing the empty air between them, bringing him forever into her atmosphere.

* * *

First ficlet done. Forgive the messiness of my analogies. I tried my best. :( The prompt for this was "fireball." According to the International Astronomical Union, a fireball is a meteor brighter than any of the planets. :)


	2. Dress Code

**Disclaimer:** GW = not mine.

**Author's Note:** Still the same theme. Here, we explore what could cause Heero to change his manner of dressing. :p

**Catalysts  
by mistress amethyst une**

**Dress Code**

Heero Yuy never fails to take advantage of casual Friday.

However, his recent change of wardrobe from tank tops and denim pants to buttoned-up collared shirts and well-fitting trousers leaves many of his co-workers in a state of befuddlement.

The fact that he's also taken to wearing a pair of shades leads to even more idle gossip.

Why does Heero Yuy, who never really gives a damn about anything he wears except in terms of practicality, suddenly feel a need to be fashionable?

The only logical explanation is that, in some way, he now sees being fashionable as practical.

Which is exactly right.

Over the past few months, Heero has found himself exploring the more pleasurable aspects of a romantic relationship with one of the most attractive women in all of Earth and space.

Nevertheless, due to her hectic schedule, finding time for their "trysts" has become one of his more difficult challenges.

Yes, even more difficult than stopping her mildly megalomaniacal brother from trying to plunge the planet into eternal winter.

But then again, he's Heero Yuy, and failure just won't do.

Thursday nights.

Relena has somehow managed to keep those weekday hours free.

Needless to say, he takes full advantage of his free time with her.

Nothing short of another world crisis could pull him away from his self-appointed Thursday duties.

Well, except maybe an impromptu visit from her brother.

But that's a world crisis in itself.

Thanks to Thursdays, Heero now finds himself seeing casual Fridays as...convenient.

With memories of the night before leaving his appetite for the sensual whetted, he dresses to impress for the hedonistic weekend ahead.

Practicality?

Heero finds that buttoning up a collared shirt hides hickeys with the least amount of effort.

Some would argue that the pants aren't practical at all.

Heero would be inclined to agree but he's in no position to argue when the vice foreign minister tells him that tight-fitting pants turn her on.

And the shades?

Aren't all men allowed a stupid fashion choice they think is cool?

* * *

Sorry, it's short. Prompt used here is "zoom in enhance." I interpreted it as the scrutiny of others.


	3. Warmth

**Disclaimer:** GW = not mine.

**Author's Note:** This is in some way related to a short 30 second AMV I finished as part of a multi-editor project. If you're curious, search for "Cascada Megamix MEP Part 8 - What Do You Want From Me? Heero/Relena" on YouTube. My account on YT is "wingzerosnuggles." I've made quite a few GW AMVs so feel free to check them out and comment. ;)

**Catalysts  
by mistress amethyst une**

**Warmth  
**

Whenever Relena feels Heero's eyes on her, it's a sensation that never fails to resonate in her very core. Relena Darlian has an uncanny ability for noticing Heero Yuy's presence, whether or not he makes himself visible. During the short post-war period, wherein he opted to watch over her from the shadows, she did her best to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut, telling her he was nearby, imploring her to seek him out. On the outside, she was the perfect picture of professional calm. On the inside, an internal tempest was brewing as an alarm inside her was triggered.

She would always tell herself no.

He would have to come to her.

But her heart and mind didn't seem to want to play fair.

There was a reason she had been drawn to that body on the beach, a reason she had been the one to rouse him from death.

Evolution, perhaps?

New findings have been made about each passing generation gaining heightened perception. Several case studies indicate that it's hardly uncommon for people in this era to be more aware about their surroundings, specifically sensing when other peoples gazes were upon them without having to do so much as give a sideways glance.

And empathy...there were findings on that, too. Certain individuals have a knack for sensing emotion in others.

An overwhelming warmth.

This is what Relena feels whenever he's nearby.

But that doesn't make her an empath, does it?

Most definitely not.

After all, he's the only one she can sense.

So what is she?

A genetic fluke of some sort? A freak?

She finds herself tossing and turning in bed, cursing herself for presenting her mind with this annoying conundrum before sleep can seize her. Science and all its complicated, headache inducing wonders are hardly appreciated when all one wants is some shuteye.

On a whim, she gets up and opens the window. Even as the chilly night air gently caresses her face, a familiar warmth envelops her from behind.

He's home.

Stealthy as he is about opening doors, she never fails to know when he's walked in on her.

Feigning nonchalance, she rests her elbows on the sill, firmly planting her chin on steepled fingers. Muttering his name before he can touch her, she acknowledges his presence.

Mere months have passed since he first came to her without war at his back shoving him in her direction. Still, it seems like he's been coming home to her for an eternity. He moves to embrace her from behind, whispering a seductive salutation that's become all too familiar.

He asks if she'll let him warm her bed tonight.

She always tells him yes.

* * *

Prompt is "incendiary glance." I leave it up to you guys to interpret this. I just always found it amusing how Heero and Relena muttered each others' names even when they were apart, sensing each other somewhat. And you have to admit that Relena has an uncanny ability for knowing when Heero's nearby. ;)


	4. Ala Carte

**Disclaimer:** GW = not mine.

**Author's Note:** Well, I'm basing this a bit on personal experience. More on that later. This is done in a slightly different style than the other stories in this collection.

**Catalysts  
by mistress amethyst une**

**Ala Carte  
**

Heero can't ascertain Pagan's objective in inviting him to lunch. Still, the former Gundam pilot finds himself sitting opposite the elderly butler at the kitchen table, both dining on a meager meal of bread and cream-based stew.

Pagan clears his throat, something Heero has come to interpret as a prompt for one to start a conversation. Politely, he begins by asking about the older man's well-being.

Pagans cuts to the chase, his gravelly voice blurting something through a mouthful of bread. Heero finds the words unintelligible and requests clarification.

"Miss Relena once subsisted on a diet comprised solely of sugar cubes and gravy for the duration of a week," repeats Pagan, a faint flash of his porcelain dentures appearing as he presents a wry smile.

Heero's eyes widen a bit in disbelief. The statement is candid, bereft of the usual formality Pagan usually employs.

"It's called an ice breaker, Mr. Yuy," continues Pagan, taking a brief but dignified sip of water, all his fingers wrapped around the glass. Heero has never seen Pagan at mealtime before. On occasion, the old man would serve Relena tea, sometimes joining her. Heero was there to watch, and Pagan always sipped from his teacup with his pinky sticking out. It's a bit strange seeing him in a different setting.

Knowing that etiquette dictates he respond, Heero tries to speak but finds himself tongue-tied. It seems that Relena isn't alone in having a knack for leaving him at a loss for words. Pagan shrugs slightly, dipping his bread into the stew.

"I'll take your silence as an old man's license to monologue," he says, swallowing another bite. "Objections?"

Heero shakes his head, ignoring his meal in anticipation of Pagan's speech. Any excuse to stay silent is welcome at this point. Maybe listening will clear up the cloud of befuddlement forming in his head.

"Sugar cubes and gravy," Pagan tells him animatedly as he shakes his head. There appears to be some sense of amused disdain at the memory. "Miss Relena faced her first battle at the ripe old age of nine. The enemy? The family cook. The weapons? A child's iron will and implacable palate against the cook's irritability and control over the household menu."

Pagan must think a dramatic pause is in order since he stops then and there for another quick bite or two before gulping down some more water. Heero raises an eyebrow, mildly irked and altogether confused at where this was going.

"She was difficult to please. If she didn't like the meal, she would say so. She didn't throw tantrums but, as you already know, she's very vocal. Polite but opinionated. Playing the part of a good little girl, she would eat what was on her plate but later present the cook with her critique. The cook was bit sensitive, and never again cooked any dish Miss Relena didn't like. One day, he finally lost his temper. Our little miss had nothing but criticism for a meal that had taken hours to make, a dish he considered his specialty. To think that he could never cook that meal again without remembering the distaste it had met set his blood boiling. Since Miss Relena's parents were away on holiday, he decided on revenge."

Heero's eyes are completely focused on Pagan. Several hypotheses and scenarios play out in the perfect soldier's head. What sort of revenge? An assassination plot, perhaps? How did Relena thwart it? Was she more adept at self-defense than she let on? And what did all this have to do with "sugar cubes and gravy?"

"For an entire week," chortles Pagan, "he served her nothing but sugar cubes and gravy. At first, Miss Relena found it a welcome novelty. Up until then, she poured gravy on almost everything, and you've seen how much sugar she adds to her coffee and tea. However, by the third day, she had made herself sick with this culinary hedonism. She pretty much defeated herself. She couldn't tell the cook she didn't like it. What if the cook never gave her gravy or sugar ever again? And tattling to her parents never even crossed her mind. She wanted her mother and father to enjoy their holiday. Besides, if she she told, the cook might be fired. Grouchy as he was, she liked having him around. On occasion, he would bring his daughter by, and the girl was one of a scant number of playmates who didn't worship the ground she walked on. I suppose it must be in her blood. Even at that age, she was ever the pacifist. One could suppose that this was her first real exercise in diplomacy, the one that started it all."

Pagan dusts the crumbs off the table and into the napkin on his lap as Heero glares, knowing that can't possibly be the end of the tale. He wants to prompt Pagan to continue but it's not his in nature to express excessive eagerness over something, let alone a silly story.

"I'm only too glad to say that the princess got a happy ending," grins Pagan upon seeing Heero's expression. Seemingly ecstatic, he flashes the orthodontic wonder that is the whitest set of dentures Heero has ever laid eyes on. The man could read minds.

"After that entire fiasco, Miss Relena finally had a good long talk with the cook, asking him about why he was upset with her and so on. She was incredibly charming. They made a deal of sorts. I'm not exactly sure of the specifics but Miss Relena went on cleaning her plates and highlighting the positives of each meal whether or not she liked it. The household was at peace, and her parents were none the wiser."

Pagan stands to clear his own bowl, "Now, I really must go and attend to my duties. You've hardly touched your food, Mr. Yuy. I would advise that you finish it. It really is quite delicious. Thank you for your company, and for letting an old man prattle on. I can see now why you and Miss Relena are a good match."

Pagan leaves without elaborating, only increasing Heero's confusion as he sits at the table with a bowl of cold stew and a half-eaten piece of bread. Had he just undergone some sort of test without knowing it?

* * *

Prompt is "sugar rush."What inspired this fic is the fact that the family cook and I don't get along too well. I think it's because I openly reject her cooking when I don't like it and munch on my own clumsily made burnt toast and Zero Cal. Zero Cal is evil, btw. Tastes like diluted carbonated cough syrup. I can see very well why she'd be insulted but I still prefer that to tripe in peanut sauce or vegetables in shrimp paste or that bony fish my mother's always requesting which I choke on without fail. She makes great stuff, too. Among other things, I always eat her chicken feet and her oriental beef stew. But yeah, when I get picky, we clash. She's been making stuff I don't like more and more often as a passive strike. :(


	5. Slumber

**Disclaimer:** GW = not mine.

**Author's Note:** And now, I'm putting this series out of its misery. :)

**Catalysts  
by mistress amethyst une**

**Slumber**

The sound of her voice, though not particularly commanding, captures the full attention of her audience. Physically, she's far from the stereotypical embodiment of feminine beauty but she's prone to turning heads wherever she goes. There's just something about her, a dogged insistence on living despite the world's eagerness to end her life, an unmatched _joie de vivre_...

And yet, she spends the better part of her leisure time in the company of the man who once swore to kill her.

Not that he ever could.

He assumes that's part of their attraction to each other. She's not something he can conquer, and he'll be damned if he'll let anyone else try. Meanwhile, he's more than willing to let her take him over.

But she won't.

It's just not in her nature.

If she asked, he would kill for her.

Instead, she seeks the opposite; she desires a world bereft of blood.

And so, he sits at the sidelines as she charms the snakes that approach, sometimes only narrowly cheating death.

She cheats death thanks to the boy who swore to kill her but never could. If he can't kill her, no one can.

But today, someone almost succeeds in extinguishing the light within her.

Stressed out, overworked, fatigued.

She puts herself out, and he's not there to catch her when she falls in that hallway.

To say he drives to the hospital like a madman would be an insult to insanity.

And there she lies, his sleeping princess...

She's pale. Her face is a black and white image. Dark circles mar her eyes as she wanders the world beneath her eyelids. He doesn't want to lay a finger on her, afraid of what a simple touch might inflict. She could change the world's fate with a few choice words but-

He refuses to complete the thought.

When she awakens, he's still there, casting his shadow over her as she manages a small smile.

Reaching out, she strokes his cheek before pinching it in a way that quirks his mouth into a smile that does a horrid job of mirroring hers.

The nightmare ends.

* * *

Final prompt: pinch me to waking.


End file.
